It’s Christmas Eve here in Mexico [and yes, I know, there where you are as well]. We went for a nine kilometre walk which involved some time spent at Playa Patzcuarito. The trails had spots where it had become soft because of the rain we had the night before last.
There was a lot more debris on the trail because of the storm that had passed through the region. I was surprised that very little of the trail had been washed away.
Once we were at the beach, the last 150 metres of our walk to the north end was done without me wearing a swimsuit. This was a first for this beach, a risk I took because there was no one within sight. At the north end, protected from being seen by newcomers to the beach, there was no thought of putting on the swimsuit.
We stayed wandering among the rocks and then sitting on them to watch the sea as the waves grew in intensity. About twenty minutes later, we saw a young man watching from the rocks to the north, a section where there was no beach. Uncharacteristically, I didn’t rush to put on the swimsuit. He had already seen what there was to see.
He then decided to scale the very steep cliff face as if he was at a climbing wall. Only thing was, he didn’t have a safety harness. Once at the top, he took photos with us included. About ten minutes later he reappeared and walked passed us, his eyes on the path of sand that meandered between large boulders.
With a final swig of water, it was time to head back to our apartment. I had guacamole to prepare for our Christmas Eve hors d’oeuvres.